Fate's Possession
by Joker and the Thief
Summary: A night of inebriated decisions have created a chaotic chain of events leaving William to discover just how much Grell truly means to him, all the while the trials and tribulations that could shatter both their worlds. Grelliam. Alternate Universe to my other story Glimpse Into Madness. Rated M for strong adult content.


**A/N: Per my other story Glimpse Into Madness, I wanted to give back to the readers who put in votes for the story to be a Grelliam fic. I apologize if I disappointed anyone, so here was a little something I created to thank those of you for taking the time to read my story and leave such wonderful feedback!**

 **Please note this story shares similar themes to my other fic, but in no ways is this a replica. No spoilers or anything of the sort. Think of it as an alternate universe kinda thing.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from Black Butler fanfiction. All rights and respects go to Yana Toboso.**

 **Warning: Language, mentions of sexual content, violence.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Chapter One**

Clouds gathered above the midnight of the forest, flashing light and ominous thunder in the distance warned of an oncoming storm. One drop, two drops, slowly gathering into scattered sprinkles erupting within seconds, spilling forth from the sky and killing the chilled silence of the air that only moments ago loomed over every tree and every bush in the area, suffocating the sounds of labored breathing and quiet whimpers.

Rain droplets splashed into William's eyes, glasses now long gone most likely shattered somewhere in the grass around him, the cold stings of water danced on his face, however they could have been drops of acid for all the raven haired man could have guessed, for he felt nothing then, even when the damp of the grass seeped into his back through his suit, he felt _nothing._ His eyes stung, not sure whether it was from the chilled bullets of rain or the blood splattered upon his face he wasn't sure which had caused the pain.

Or perhaps said numbed sting was a product of him being unable to blink since he'd watched his world come crashing down on him...landing on his scythe, speared through the chest, blood spattering out and onto the front of Williams always so pristine Yorkshire wool attire, on his face, on the blades of surrounding grass, the metallic smell suffocating what should be the crisp smell of fresh rain and earthy aroma.

A small cry met his ears, yet William found he could not tear his dead stare away from confused eyes above him, half lidded and slowly losing their glint with every ounce of blood that pooled from the deep puncture wounds that adorned the body skewered only short of a foot above him.

 _'This...wasn't suppose to happen...not like this.'_

"Will..."

Another gurgled cough, and the reaper felt his own blood chill. He wasn't staring at blood red eyes anymore, no, somewhere between the animalistic lunge and his instinctive reaction to defend himself, the black slitted pupils and blood red irises morphed back into their original green-yellow rimmed, the sin and hatred purified the second it met with his blessed weapon leaving behind the body of a grim reaper William had known for countless decades, developed a kind of relationship he had found in no other, had shared his most intimate moments with...

...and he was _dying_ right before his eyes.

William cursed himself, for all that had lead up to this moment. Being the kind of man he was he knew past actions should never be regretted later if they weren't intentionally meant to chain react the events that followed, however he felt that at any moment in the past 48 hours could he have changed something, _anything,_ to save him from the horror he found himself enduring at this very moment.

A cold weak hand graced his cheek, dragging a slow shaky thumb over the side of his face lovingly, and he watched as the man hanging lifeless above him smiled weakly releasing a stream of blood to flow from his lips and pool at the dip of William's throat between his collarbones.

"Will..." those green-yellow eyes, always so beautiful, always so vibrant, began to roll back as eyelids fluttered closed.

"GRELL!"

 **-:-**

 _4 Days Earlier..._

William awoke with a start, jerked from his incandescent dreams by the surge of his limbs shaking with force. Melted into the soft fur below he decided it was best to lay within the comfort until his senses adjusted appropriately. Groggy eyes stared up at the morning lit ceiling above him taking into account the pale cream that colored the interior. He couldn't focus passed the sick taste in his mouth, sticky, dry, a strong hint of gin from the night before. If only he could remember exactly what he was doing drinking _gin._ With every blink his head throbbed with growing agitation as if frustrated to have been forced from such a deep healing slumber. The ache of dehydration screamed in the muscles of his arms and legs. Oh, work was indeed going to be quite a task...

He bolted straight up, ignoring the lurch of nausea in his stomach that followed and the chilled air on his exposed chest as soft red bed sheets dropped to his hips at the sudden movement.

None of that mattered at all, because William T. Spears was late for work.

There was a soft groan to his immediate left causing the cool reaper's sharp eyes to bolt to the direction of the sound, body chilled to the bone. Oh no...had he really spent his gin induced night with another? It was impossible, he wasn't the kind of man to indulge in the throws of an erotic and very inebriated night of scandalous shenanigans! William gulped and reached a shaky hand to the red bedsheets concealing just _who_ he was sharing this bed with and tugged gently as to not wake the unknown reaper.

A mop of red hair was all the answer he needed, pale skin of a lean yet feminine like set of shoulder blades made him wince when the lurch of nausea surged full force again.

Oh no...no no no...it couldn't be... it was.

He had just shared a bed with Grell Sutcliff.

At the realization setting in so did the breaking levy in mind, memories of last night flooding in. He lifted the bed sheet from his lap to justify a most horrid thought that had came to his mind, and he cursed inwardly when he confirmed that, yes, he was completely naked, sticky from last night's affairs, and to add the proverbial cherry on top, he found his stomach, hips, and thighs were scattered in small bites and circular bruises.

Oh heaven _above..._ what in God's good name had he just done?

Not only did he share a bed with his red-haired co-worker, but he had _bedded_ him as well.

Wasting no time William peeled the covers off gently and lifting his legs over the side of the bed he pulled himself up slowly as to not stir the sleeping man. He _definitely_ did not want to awake that confrontation, not yet anyway. His spectacles dropped to the tip of his nose as he stood and instinctively he adjusted them higher on the bridge of his nose. They stayed obediently placed and after a few seconds and light tiptoes they seemed to have made their way down his bridge once more. He adjusted them again, and the spectacles repeated the same action. Huffing William placed them again with more pressure. Honestly, _another_ aggravating realization; at some point of the night he believed he might have broken his glasses. Wonderful.

Through cooked lenses he searched the dimly lit room for his clothes, finding one by one in the most random places. Trousers by the door, button up shirt hanging on the top of Grell's extravagant red-wood vanity in the corner of the room, one sock under the bed, the other sock hanging on the doorknob, his vest hanging alarmingly right above Grell on the headboard of the bed –which took all of William's stealth to retrieve without waking the redhead – freezing to a halt when his victory came with a groggy shuffle of the younger man below him and he watched as Grell shuffled deeper into the sheets, his head snuggling deeper under the pillow.

"Mmm...burning the scones..."

William released a quiet sigh of relief and tiptoed away from the bed. He figured his blazer and shoes would be somewhere in the living room or by the front door, it wouldn't be a problem to retrieve them on his way out.

But where the bloody hell were his briefs? He pondered this until he reached for his watch in the pocket of his vest and grimaced at the time. If he left now he would only be twenty minutes late for work, that meaning there was simply no time to consider the lack of comfort of having to go brief-less for an entire day, even as much he sorely wished he was graced with as little as five minutes to bathe, however William T. Spears was _never_ late for work and he'd be damned if he was going to break that flawless attendance with anything over thirty minutes.

His hand gripped the cold metal of the knob and ghosted his way out the door only to be tugged back by a sudden notion. He turned back and glanced at the sleeping reaper and for a small moment wondered if it'd be in his best interest to wake him to prevent the red reaper from being late to work as well...

...but quickly dismissed the idea with a huff and exited the room, deciding that for once he would overlook the tardiness, more for his own selfish reasons this time, and would let Grell stagger in at his own pace to avoid the man at all costs. Let sleeping dogs lie, so to speak.

 **-:-**

It wasn't long after William left Grell's flat that he was able to reach Headquarters; formerly known as the 'Art District', Grell had taken to living in an area where his charisma was somewhat understood by those who a had a mutual understanding of everything flashy, abnormal and eccentric, the stereotype had simply conjugated into a single area of living, which was, conveniently, closer to work than William's more quiet and conservative neighborhood.

Arriving only five minutes late, he slipped in through the back entrance preferring not to take the chance to be spotted by the gossiping hens of General Affairs, noting simply that one biased remark could spread through the entire building like wildfire, and William was simply not one to take kindly to petty he-said-she-said conversation.

He wasn't hiding, oh no, merely slipping out the grasp of biased attention was all.

Climbing up multiple flights of stairs he found the door to his floor and headed down the long winding hallway until he reached his office. For a moment William had to compliment his own stealth, even with broken glasses and the drag of exhaustion in his step he was able to slip through the building unnoticed.

All except one naturally chipper blond who came striding around the corner with a kick in his step, whose bright youthful eyes widened cheerfully at the sight of his superior. A glove hand shot up in a solute and he smirked.

"Goo~ood morning, Mr. S! Hope you had a good –wait, you're not just coming in, are you?"

 _'Damn...'_ William thought, cringing when he heard the question at the end of the young man's greeting. He should have known that out of everyone that could have caught him in such a suspicious way it would be one Ronald Knox; the prodigy of his age, fiercely loyal, full of wit and charm, yet cursed with the mouth of a chatty housewife. William cursed his luck.

"Knox," he greeted stiffly, "there was a short meeting this morning, that's all." _Honestly,_ why was he even explaining himself to this boy?

Ronald stopped only a few feet away from William, two-toned eyes giving a quick one-up of his superior behind his spectacles, so fast the raven haired reaper almost didn't catch it, perhaps a neat trick he learned from the many girls he shared his time with off the clock.

"Ah, I gotcha. Because you know, if you _were_ just coming in, that would make you ten minutes late..." There was a pause then, and William sorely wished he could have used that pause for a retort, or some form of comeback, but surprisingly he found he couldn't, instead he quietly stared at his subordinate. _Honestly,_ what was wrong with him!? To be so easily intimidated by _Ronald Knox_!? The mere thought was absolutely absurd...

Ronald suddenly burst into a fit of chuckles. "Ha, just pulling ya chain, Mr. S! You should have seen your face!"

Finally finding his voice, William cleared his throat and adjusted his spectacles. "I'll kindly ask you not to call me that."

"What? Mr. S? Aww, but you told me I could!"

William scoffed. "Preposterous. As if I would give such authorization..."

"Don't you remember, y'know at the pub last night?" The raven haired reaper stopped at the mentioning. Oh god, he grimaced, so it wasn't a nightmare. Proud, noble William T. Spears became the product of a lost night full of inebriation and lack of self-control. Damn the temptress that was gin and tonic, the bitter-tart carbonated goodness that could lax a tarnished man after a long day of reaping and endless paperwork.

And last night, William sourly admitted he lost count, and _memory,_ at his 3rd. If only he could remember _why_ he let himself get past his comfort of one drink to begin with.

"You said it sounded _cool_. You must have been pretty sloshed off your face...erh, I mean," Ronald corrected himself at the cold look his superior shot him with and changed the subject, "..uh, hey, are your glasses broken?"

"If you are _quite_ finished, Ronald Knox, I suggest you get back to your work." William almost snarled, and turned to proceed through the door.

"Oh, I remembered what I came t'ask you! D'you know if Senior Sutcliff clocked in yet? We got some reaping to do in a few hours, wanted to get it knocked out early."

The very mention of the red reaper stiffened William's back as uncomfortable recollections of his morning treasure hunt for his belongings flashed through his head, the last glimpse of pale shoulders snuggled within the sheets and comforter. William shook off the memory, giving a straightforward 'no' he was almost about to shut the door, stopping abruptly when he caught what Ronald had muttered more to himself than to his boss.

"Hmm, he wasn't really sloshed when he took you home last night...maybe I'll check the lounge again."

The door swung back open. Ronald squeaked and jumped back when William was suddenly at full attention. "Pardon?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah, Senior Sutcliff escorted you home when they pulled you off the pool table. But he stopped drinking halfway through the night, so I know he's not riding off a hangover..."

A dark elegant eyebrow twitched. That no good, low down, manipulative, flamboyant _harlot._ Grell Sutcliff had warped his better judgment, seduced him in such a state of vulnerability, and taken him without morality. A foreign twist in his gut caused William to clench his jaw; honestly, why was this such a surprise to him?

Trifling hussy was going to get his upcomings the next time he saw him, oh yes, he would see to it personally.

"That will be all, Knox." he responded coldly, and closed the door. He stalked slowly to his desk, the silence of his office muffled by the intense ringing in his ears. Gloved hands trembled with rage; William T. Spears rarely lost his temper – only allowing his composure to slip for minor aggravations and lashings of underachieving slack-offs who from time to time needed a little fear to improve their work ethic. But this...this was different.

This time Grell Sutcliff had gone too far. This had nothing to do with work, and that was what William found to be the most offensive; somehow he, William T. bloody Spears, had become the bug on the red web he spent years avoiding. He'd watched so many buzz around it, becoming entranced, falling for it's beauty...wait, did he just consider that _beauty?_ No! Delude was what he meant! Falling for it's _delude_ , only to become trapped, manipulated, violated...

 _'Ahn...W-Will...'_

William blinked and stopped walking, frozen in place. What in heavens…?

 _Soft lips caressed his collarbone, sharp teeth nipped at the protruded bone beneath his sweat slicked skin._

 _'Ooh...unh...William...' the heat of a hypnotized whisper against his flesh..._

A slight pain rippled across William's shoulders as he tensed, gloved hand instinctively reaching up to rub at his collarbone. Such an intense memory...from last night? Why now, when all the reaper wanted to do was lose himself within in his mounds of paperwork, would those unsightly –disturbingly alluring – images flood his brain, reminding him of the biggest blunder he'd ever made. Honestly...now was not the time for such ludicrous visions. Before he knew it he was at his desk, body acting as if programmed to cruise him into his schedule. He sat down quietly and scooted himself in. Everything seemed normal now, almost pleasant, as if all the abnormalities of the previous night could not breach the barrier of his office door.

 _'Please...'_

Unfortunately the chaos stirred in his head. Chopped and foggy the visions compared faintly to a ragged cinematic record. William leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. He cursed the memories, cursed the agonizing silence of his office, everything that had to do with the unfortunate happening; his negligence, the redheaded incubus tormenting his brain, the faintness of a foreign feeling that twinged along with the frustration and disgust at the thoughts of his actions. Damn them all...

 _'Deeper...I want all of you.'_

 _'Click...click...click...click...'_

So caught up in his own plague William could not differentiate the clicking of high heels from past or present, from a dream or reality, barely even noticing the quiet twist of the doorknob of his office door, completely unaware of the figure slipping into the room.

The raven haired man almost jolted out of his seat when two slender arms snaked around his shoulders, coming to drape lazily on his chest. He watched a flicker of red from his peripheral, and immediately the anxious feeling in his stomach twisted painfully. He could almost feel painted lips brush against the shell of his ear as the voice whispered to him coyly.

"Naughty William...leaving me to oversleep like that. Though I do like a good chase the morning _after_ _~._ "

William snorted, almost feeling the sly grin against his ear. Anger seeped into him, and a million options ran through his mind; throw him on the desk? Too blunt, he'd wait for that. Break his wrist? He couldn't trust himself to put up with the incessant whining. He decided to good threat to start out would do the trick, no sense losing control over a simple comment. He would not give the redhead the satisfaction of knowing he managed to crawl under his skin so quickly.

Without turning around the raven haired man addressed the other man leaning behind him with a controlled growl. "Grell Sutcliff, remove yourself from my person before I remove you myself _._ "

Grell replied with a giggle, like liquid on tile, the threat rolled right off of him. But he did remove his arms slowly and rounded the desk to face the other man's stiff exterior. For a moment William watched Grell silently, taking in the way the lithe body sauntered around his desk, and for a second he questioned just why he watched the other so warily and so...oddly. He'd never kept such a suspicious eye on Sutcliff before...suspicious, or was it something else? Were his eyes watching Grell's actions, or was he watching Grell?

The red reaper seated himself, albeit slowly, in the chair across from his boss's large desk, arm perched upon one corner of the chair's back with one leg sloppily thrown over the other –an odd way to sit as opposed to his usual proper posture of back straight with a leg appropriately over the other, hands usually placed in his lap _'like a proper lady_ _'_ when facing his supervisor and old schoolmate. Their eyes met and William noticed something off about the redheads phosphorescent eyes. Those eyes always held a glow of mischief and pent up exhilaration; but not this morning.

Those black rimmed eyes, eyeliner applied on with such care and steadfast hands, outlined nothing but a dull almost _extinguished_ gaze.

"I figured you'd be this way after all," Grell spoke knowingly with a sway of his hand, "last night was... _interesting_ , to say the least." there was a soft chuckle at the end of his comment.

William's eyes narrowed. Was that humor in his voice? It only served to aggravate him further. But he was the better man of this, and would not lose himself in his emotions or act upon the temptation of unleashing his frustration on the red head in front of him. He leaned closer into his desk so that he was practically hunched over his paperwork, keeping his eyes focused on the letters but not reading a single one of them. His hand picked up the pen, dipped the tip in ink, and began signing every place that possibly needed his signature with no regard to what he was actually signing for.

"Leave me, Sutcliff. As you can see I don't have time for you right now."

He waited for the high pitched whine he expected right after his dismissal, but his reply was complete silence. No indignant retort? No obnoxious proclamations of feelings? How very strange...

A distant whisper flickered across William's mind. _'He's playing with you...he knows how to get you to look at him.'_ That made enough sense. He inwardly scoffed; wiser of the two, William would combat this little game of his with a lack of acknowledgment. But when Grell finally spoke, William found it difficult to hold his temper back rather than lashing out. "Is that anyway to treat someone when they're kind enough to check in on you?"

Unseen was the hard grip the raven-haired man had on his pen, bending it slightly. _'Get out of my sight you arrogant, manipulative piece of trash!'_ "The gesture is unnecessary. Now return to your work."

Another moment of silence followed his solid command. William's lip twitched this time, becoming slightly uncomfortable and more agitated at the feeling of eyes watching him struggle to concentrate on his paperwork. The nerve of that...! What reason did this devil have to torment him when all he wanted to do was _forget;_ to bury the horrible mistake he had made so unspeakably deep within the confounds of his mind that he would regress them for as long as he possibly could. He would not have to suffer through the twisting lurch in his abdomen, or the strange prickle on his skin at every moan and whimper that resurfaced from the memories.

He could hear Grell shuffle softly in his seat, almost missing the slight hitch in his breath when he positioned a certain way on the chair. He inquired the strange action for only seconds until the smaller man started softly.

"Will..."

 _'Will...'_

The stoic reaper in question bit the inside of his lip at the sound of his subordinate calling his name...so much like last night. He wanted to slam his head on the desk...or slam Grell's head on the desk. He just wanted to be left alone...

"I just..." Grell tried again, "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Did you now?" Before William could stop himself he was already blowing steam. He flashed angry eyes to the redhead's surprised ones, knowing well the shock in those ringed green were from his sudden harsh change in tone. He would never admit if it was those damned painted eyes, or perhaps the control he suddenly had over himself, but he held his tongue from saying what appeased the boiling anger inside.

"Grell Sutcliff..." He seethed through clenched teeth, but inhaled deeply before continuing. "I do not wish to speak of this now."

"Then when?" Grell bit back, not moving an inch from his seat. His eyes met his superiors defiantly.

 _'Never.'_

William eased the stressed grip on his pen, preferring not to explode ink all over his desk...again. "I do not wish to waste time discussing senseless matters on the clock. Return to your desk-–"

" _Senseless matters?"_ Grell spat, suddenly shooting up from the chair to loom over the desk, a wince poorly hidden and caught by William's observant glare. "Cold, William. Very cold, and not the kind I like."

"...Return to your desk, Sutcliff."

"Not until we talk about what happened –!"

William snapped then, breaking his pen in one hand and slamming the desk with the palm of his other and rose from his seat faster than Grell's eyes could follow. A dark shadow fell upon William's shoulders as he stabbed the other reaper with a sharp look, fire raging forth with all the fury of a blown volcano.

"...You want to know what happened?" He spoke quietly, calmly. And it seemed to have openly startled Grell, who seemed to slightly shift back cautiously.

William adjusted his glasses. "What happened last night was the product of your _selfish,_ " he leaned over the desk then, _"manipulative,"_ he should have stopped himself there, but with each word said the more his restraint was breaking, " _debauched",_ he lifted his arm and reached past Grell's wide shock stricken eyes to grab his jaw harshly, pulling all attention on the last word that hissed from his mouth, _"whorish_ intentions."

The superior reaper leaned further now inches from Grell's face. " _This filthy mistake will never happen again."_ The instant he realized what he had just said a phantom pain stung his chest and in the small moment of awkward silence between them he took in the stunned expression completely exposed to his scrutiny; eyes wavering, the quiver of his bottom lip, and just under his grip on his jaw he saw a glimpse of something quite odd...a ghost of a ringed discoloration around his neck under a thin layer of foundation powder. He suddenly didn't have time to properly evaluate his discovery, for a thin manicured hand wrapped around his own, gently pulling his now lax hold from his jaw and set it back down on the desk.

William never took his eyes off Grell's, watching the shock turn to hurt and finally transition to a blank gaze.

"Is..that what you think…?"

"…." The raven haired man didn't answer, instead he directed his attention down at their hands; bare skin on his leather glove. Peaking out from under the cuff of his dress shirt was the familiar discoloration, it too almost disguised under light cream colored powder.

The hand lifted and disappeared from his vision at that moment. A soft, exasperated chuckle snapped him out of his thoughts and he looked up to see Grell turn and quietly head towards the door.

"I see…." With a slow sway of his hips the flamboyant reaper made his exit out the office, William watching him all the while.

Grell stopped at the doorknob and without looking back exhaled a deep breath from his lungs and spoke in a voice William found he had to strain just to hear him.

"How foolish of me...to think you would have remembered."

And just like that, Grell left the office, shutting the door behind him and taking all sound with him save the ticking of the clock on the far wall.

Now it was William's turn to heave a sigh, still standing, still watching the door from behind his large desk. He tried to grasp what all had just happened. A tinge of guilt ached his chest and he cursed his confusion for feeling such. Yes, he had spat some harsh words at his old schoolmate...but wasn't he in the right? He was never one to let his anger blind him into thoughtless acts...but even still, he had some ground to be this angry, did he not?

 _'Damn….'_ Not knowing what else to do, William sat back down in his chair, the desire to touch any paperwork thrown completely out the proverbial window now. He rested his elbows on the desk and rubbed his eyes tiredly with his palms. Damn this guilt, damn Grell, damn gin, damn it all! His anger now smoldered into a mild agitation, all he wanted to do was get this horrid day over with and go back to the comfort of his own home.

It wasn't even noon and the day was completely ruined.

A knock at the door and a jingle of the knob brought him out of his thoughts. He sighed, "Sutcliff, I –"

"Guess again."

 _That_ voice. William lifted his head to meet a familiar face from upper management. His expression changed to one more professional. "Oh. Good morning, Burke."

Ivan Burke, one of the few older reapers from higher up that could still stand to perform their job with a smile. A cheery fellow with short brown hair, thin rectangular glasses, and eyes that appeared as if he was permanently staring at a bright light. His long legs strode to the desk from the door in seconds, that same smile plastered on his face.

"Good morning to you, Spears." He slapped various portfolios on the hardwood in front of William, the sound demanding his attention. He picked them up slowly, inspecting each one. Three agent files, each one reading a large printed name in bold cursive on the front.

 _William T. Spears_

 _Ronald Knox_

 _Grell Sutcliff_

William blinked, then looked back up at Ivan bewildered. "Sir, if I may inquire…?"

His reply was a baritone chuckle. "Assignments. Fix your spectacles, Spears. You're going to France."

 **-:-**

 _ **TBC**_

 **A/N: Thank you all for reading! I do hope it was all to your liking! Unlike my other story, I'm taking a bit of a different approach to the writing style, setting a different atmosphere so to speak.**

 **Feel free to tell me what you think, I always enjoy the feedback from my readers! :) Constructive criticism is welcomed.**

 **Until next time!**

 **- _JATT_**


End file.
